Observations
by HexeChick
Summary: Someone's watching Jason White.


**DISCLAIMER: **All characters/places in this fic belong to Warner Brothers, DC Comics and all other respective creators.

**NOTE:** Casual observer of the DC Universe (animated, movies, and comics) so let me know if I've screwed up the mythology too badly or if my characterization is way too off.

Watching Jason White is painfully easy. There are no safeguards around the boy, his mother, or his father. Nothing preventing him from snapping the hundreds of photos he is currently getting. A Pulitzer-prize winning reporter, and his mother is oblivious to his constant gaze through the lens of a sleek digital camera, fixated on her five-year-old (going on six) son. She doesn't notice as he follows them to Jason's private school or when she (and sometimes her perpetual fiancé) pick him up. Doesn't notice from across the street as his eyes harden (ever so slightly) at this familial scene as he secretly follows them to the Daily Planet building at the center of the gleaming grid that is Metropolis.

No one notices as he joins the masses of employees that clog the elevators and stairwells of the nation's paper of record, even though he estimates his face is identifiable to at least 75 of the world's population. He enters the pit with a strong and purposeful stride, knowing from experience that if you act like you have a purpose, people are less likely to stop you, no matter who you are. He dawdles by the printer, as if waiting for a story, casting a surreptitious glance around the room, finally spying the boy coloring at the desk of a reporter. He notes the desk is not his mother's, spies the picture of a white-haired woman in front of a barn, and frowns, hoping the desk's normal occupant will not return from his overseas assignment sooner than expected

His opportunity comes more immediately than expected, as Jason's mother calls for her son from the conference room, where she stands with her fiancé and editor. The boy drops his crayon on the desk and as soon as Jason is behind the sanctuary of those glass doors, he walks quickly from the printer to the desk, slips the crayon into his pocket, and leaves the Daily Planet building as unnoticed as he came in

xxxxxx

He watches the boy at night. Watches the boy through the windows of his extremely well-lit home on the river. Watches Jason in his family unit, laughing and coloring and sleeping. He watches as Jason (finally!) gets into an accident that he had thought (up until his painfully long week of watching the White household) all children constantly got into. He watches as the boy's mother goes into a panic, and whirls into the kitchen, dabbing a paper towel at the cut above his eye and carefully placing a bandage on the injury. He holds his breath as she picks up the scrap of paper and drops it, without a second thought, into the trash can by the island. He is incredulous at her carelessness, especially in light of recent events and Luthor's interpretation of them. He thinks she's a fool, and the boy's father no better.

He waits until he is sure the entire family is a sleep before he enters the home. He dismantles the security system in less than three minutes and steals into the kitchen, conveniently located behind the massive glass doors overlooking the bay. His hand sifts through the trash can until he finally closes his fist around a bloody paper towel. He puts the scrap in a plastic bag and secrets it in his coat pocket. Rearming the security system as he goes out, he hikes to an old, nondescript sedan, his car (for the moment), which is hidden several miles away, and drives off.

xxxxx

He's glad to be out of Metropolis. It's too clean, too gleaming, to bright for him to stand. It makes him angry, walking through the nicer parts of town, seeing the lack of crime, the easy laughter and confidence of the citizens who stroll there. It's too different from the hunched posture of fear most denizens of his city carry. Plus, he never likes maintaining an alias for too long. It attracts suspicions.

He scans the DNA results into the massive supercomputer before him. When it pops up on the screen, he saves it into the folder marked "Jason White," where it joins the hundreds of photographs, notes and medical records collected on the boy. He closes out of the subfolder and returns to the main folder marked "Potential Problems". It contains dozens of other dossiers, including those on Oliver Queen, Arthur Curry/King Orrin, Helena Bertinelli, Princess Diana of the Amazons and, of course, Clark Kent. He prepares to open another subfolder when the intercom beside him crackles.

"Master Bruce," Alfred trumpets, his voice coming through the intercom mounted on the cave wall, "your meeting with Lucius Fox is in 20 minutes."

"Coming Alfred," Bruce Wayne responds, as he shuts down the computer and heads for the elevator, leaving the Batcave in darkness behind him.

**NOTE:** Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
